Christmas - it’s so yesterday.
Two thirds of a turkey and a bowl of barely-touched sprouts may well be clogging up your fridge, but once December 25 has passed and the food and drink hangover has lifted, it’s time to start thinking ahead.
For some, that will mean a headlong rush to stand in a queue outside Next for hours and prepare to fight to the death for clothes that you could actually have breezed in and bought for just a few pounds more at one of those discount days the whole of December, the entirety of Meadowhall, seemed to turn into. Clothes to replace the clothes that already fill their wardrobes to overflowing.
There will be those who, full of remorse and roast potatoes, will be lying prostrate, belly bulging, thinking about the size of their bellies and ruefully planning the next diet.
Others will already be trawling the Internet on their new techy toys (shinier, more expensive versions of their old techy toys) and communicating with people who are not sitting at the other end of the sofa.
Meanwhile, for others, the thinking ahead will mean nothing more than planning the day’s TV and deciding which selection box to tear into. I’m almost with you on that.
Though, to me the end of Christmas Day means I turn around and survey the excess that we indulged ourself with yet again. And rue not to give in to it all next year - Day One of which is a mere 144 hours away.
What 2014 will hold is not only down to circumstance - or what some label fate and destiny.
What happens to me in my 53rd year is largely down to me. I need to take control. It is, after all, my life. I am a little early with the New Year pledges, but I think I will resolve to stop wasting money - and frittering away time. Particularly on next Christmas.
The one sure thing about life is that you have no idea how long it is going to last for.